


Crushed for My Crush

by DracoTerrae



Series: 2017 Short Writings [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Celebrity Crush, Clarke and Monty are besties, Crowd Anxiety, F/M, Gen, Panic Attacks, San Diego Comic-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoTerrae/pseuds/DracoTerrae
Summary: Clarke and Monty are obsessed with "The Marauders" TV series and its cast, namely Bellamy Blake and Nathan Miller.  So when they get the opportunity to go to San Diego Comic-Con they are beyond thrilled.  When Clarke gets a mild crowd induced panic attack, she gets the best pick-me-up she ever could have dreamed.Chapter One originally written as a one-shot/drabble (so technically could still be read alone).  But now expanded to a still quite short story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Watching all the SDCC things from over the weekend got my mind wandering a bit. Going to conventions has always been a dream of mine, something I simply assumed I would do one day. San Diego being the big dream, of course. And then I remembered a small, little detail about myself: I have crowd anxiety. If I have a crowd induced panic attack at a Farmer’s Market, how the hell am I supposed to survive Comic-Con?
> 
> And thus my musing on the topic have led to this little ficlet…(And yes, I am jumping on the Bellamy Blake as James Potter in the Marauders TV show, because I love the idea and can’t think of anything better.)

“You sure you’re okay?” Monty asked, squeezing her arm gently so they wouldn’t lose each other in the crowd.  Clarke’s hand was tightly around her necklace, fingering it in attempt to ground and calm herself.

“Yeah, no, I want to keep going,” she assured him.  Right now she was fighting it, keeping her eyes steady on Monty’s back.  Just don’t look at the sheer amount of people around them, crowding in, leaving no escape, and she could get through to see her favorite actors from her favorite show.  It usually worked.  Just don’t look at the masses.

She and Monty watched every episode of _The Marauders_ together each week, whether they did it from the same couch or messaging each other from their separate homes.  They read all the fanfictions, kept up with the cast on social media, watched behind-the-scenes, anything they could get their hands on. 

They always joked that the cast seemed dorky enough that she and Monty would get along with them if they ever met in person. Then after a couple drinks, the two of them would joke that they’d meet the cast and Clarke would end up dating Bellamy Blake and Monty would date Nathan Miller.  They knew there was no hope of this ever actually happening, but it didn’t stop them from their outrageous fantasizing.  So, when Clarke’s dad got her tickets to SDCC for her birthday, her and Monty were literally jumping up and down, bubbling with excitement for the months leading up to it. 

The first day they went to the panel, sitting near and exit as Clarke was wont to do and quietly gushed to each another as the cast and director talked about the past seasons, the upcoming seasons, and other tidbits.  Afterwards they had hit up some of the vendors and their other, less popular fandoms before trying to venture for autographs. 

The line wasn’t so bad.  It was long, so “bad” in that sense, but the tenseness in Clarke’s shoulders wasn’t as awful as she had been anticipating.  She still fingered her necklace constantly, though.  At least a line wasn’t a moving horde, everyone was headed in pretty much the same direction, so she didn’t feel _too_ overwhelmed yet.  An autograph, a smile, and a short conversation with Bellamy Blake later, she stood off to the side, waiting for Monty to finish his time with Nathan Miller.

“Still holding up?” he asked as he joined her.

She nodded.  “As good as to be expected.  Better now that I’ve officially met Bellamy Blake,” she swooned.  “Not that he’ll remember me in the slightest, but still.  I have photographic evidence that he had his arm around me.”

Monty pulled out his phone and showed her his picture with Nathan Miller.  “Yup, pretty sure I can die happy now,” he joked.  “Want to head back to the hotel for the day?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve done as much as I can handle.  It’ll be good to not feel like a mountain troll is sitting on my chest,” she joked, but could physically feel the truth of her words.

The next day they were walking the floor; Clarke had one hand grasping her necklace, the other either in Monty’s hand or holding his shirt in a death grip.  Why had she thought she’d be okay at Comic-Con?  San Diego of all of them?

Her chest felt tight and she regulated her breathing, trying to look only at Monty’s back. In and out, in and out.  She heard a loud commotion and made the mistake of looking up.  Suddenly all she could see was bodies.  People pressing in on all sides.  No space in between them.  She felt her throat begin to close.  She rapidly looked around for any space, any opening.  Somewhere to escape.  She saw a bright, “Exit” sign and the smallest semblance of a clear path leading to it.  She rapidly tapped Monty’s shoulder to get his attention.  Tears forming in her eyes.  Panic rising as it took him longer than a second to turn to her.

“I need…I’m going…” she gestured frantically at the sign and took off running, hoping he gathered what was happening.

She burst through the door and past the few scattered people to the open courtyard behind the building.  Tears streamed down her checks.  Clarke raised her hands above her head and began pacing, trying to calm down her shaking breath.  Long in, long out.  Long in, long out.  Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest as she tried to slow it. 

When, after an eternity, she could finally stop moving without feeling like she was going to be crushed, she sank down onto a patch of grass.  She wiped at her eyes before closing them and focused on the feel of the grass between her fingers.  She breathed slowly and controlled, her heart beating at a slower pace, though still as loudly in her ears.

“Are you alright?” someone asked her.

“I’ll be okay.  Just trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person,” her voice still shook a little.  She opened her eyes found a face she was very familiar with, if only from watching it through a TV screen.  “Oh my god, you’re Bellamy Blake.”  Her breath caught for a whole other reason. 

He chuckled.  “Yeah, I am.” He paused.  “Are you sure you’re alright?”  He was crouched down in front of her, though still a pace or two away to give her some space.

“Just a mild panic attack.  I have crowd anxiety.”

“And what possessed you to come to San Diego Comic-Con?” he asked astounded.

“You, actually,” she shrugged. “Well, _The Marauders_ in general.”  A small part of her brain acknowledged that if she wasn’t recovering from a panic attack she probably would be a little more flustered about talking to her celebrity crush.

“Hey, wait, I think I remember you.  You came for an autograph and picture yesterday.”

Clarke laughed, the release of tension feeling great on her too tight chest.  “You could say that about anyone here for _The Marauders_.”

“No,” he protested.  “Well, yes.  But I remember you.  You were the Griffin in the Slytherin shirt.”

Clarke bit her lip.  He _did_ remember her.  “Yeah, that’s me.  I usually go by Clarke, though.”

“Well, Clarke,” he smiled. Her heart skipped a beat at the way his tongue curled around her name.  “I have an interview with the rest of the cast in less than five minutes.  But maybe next time you come see us, you pick a less populated convention than San Diego?”

“Yeah, sounds like a good plan.”

He smiled at her one last time before he got up and hurried on his way.

“Was that _Bellamy Blake_?” Monty asked in awe as he came to sit next to her.

Clarke nodded distractedly.

“So, I’m guessing you’re doing okay now, then?” he teased.

She stared after Bellamy as he disappeared into the door of the building marked, “Interviews, Authorized Personnel Only.”

“More than okay,” she agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote the first installment a while back and it was going to stand as a one-shot. But I had a few requests that I expand this fic a bit. I finished my big project (All My Friends Are Heathens), so I figured, why not work on something short and fluffy?   
> And then I took a long break from writing. Well, I kind of wrote; I have a few short chapters of this fic written. I was planning on revising them all together in one go after I finished the entire story. But I’m always more motivated to write when I have people waiting for updates. So, I figured if I post the next chapter I have, I’ll be more likely to finish up the rest of them.  
> This will still be a really short story. Five chapter in total, all relatively the same in length as the original one-shot. I’m guessing under 10,000 words in total.  
> Also, a special thanks to RealLifeShipper, Jennyhale, and GraceSkylaLove (on fanfiction.net) for giving me a few ideas on how they would like to see the fic expanded (way back when I first wrote it); you really helped feed the muse when I got back to it.

Back in their hotel room, Clarke was flipping through the TV trying to find a decent movie to put on when Monty squawked incoherently.  “Clarke, you need to see this.  Now.”

“Huh?” she moseyed over to sit next to him and look at his laptop.  He had a video post from Tumblr of an interview with the cast of the Marauders.

“First look at the tags.”

Clarke glanced down:  #Marauders #Bellamy Blake #Harper McIntyre #Who is this girl? #And why am I not her?!?!?!

Monty shot her a grin and hit play.

 

_“One last question.  This one is for you, Harper,” the interviewer began.  “MaraudersFan948 asks, ‘What is it like to work with a basically all male cast?  And specifically, what’s it like to work with Bellamy?’”_

_Harper chuckled happily.  “This cast is basically like a giant family, so it’s pretty much like I have a bunch of brothers.  Actually, think Ginny Weasley; youngest child with six older brothers.  More like five for me, but you get the point._

_“As for Bellamy.  He’s the biggest big brother of them all and I’m sure his real little sister could attest to that fact,” she started laughing in earnest, “Also, the girl he ran into right before this interview.”  The rest of the cast joined her laughter._

_“That sounds like a story, Bellamy.  Care to share?” the interviewer asked._

_Bellamy gave his cast mates a disapproving, but affectionate look.  “They’re just giving me a hard time because I was late two minutes late to our meet-time for this interview because I stopped to make sure a girl was okay.  She had had a panic attack in the crowds near the vendors and was in the courtyard catching her breath.  Really, it was something anyone would do.  I have no idea why they’re making such a big deal about it.”_

_“See, the biggest big brother,” Harper emphasized._

_“He thought she was cute, too,” Miller added._

_Bellamy shot him a glare, “Can we move onto a new topic? The world really doesn’t need to see my abuse at the hands of my cast mates.”_

_“We are unfortunately out of time.  But whoever this girl is, you’ve got the whole cast and everyone in this studio glad to know that you’re okay.  Those crowds can be tough.”_

 

The video cut off.  “Oh my god,” Clarke breathed.

“He thought you were cute,” Monty sing-songed.

“Oh my god.”

“He talked about you in an interview.”

“Oh my god.”

Monty dropped his sing-song.  “Are you going to say anything else?”

“Look at how many views it’s had already.  How many reblogs…I think I’m going to pass out.”

Monty started laughing manically.  “You’re internet famous!  Well, you kind of already were for your fanart, but now for this too!”

Clarke stared at Monty’s laptop, mentally willing the post to disappear.  “It’s okay, no one knows it’s me,” she reasoned with herself.  Monty looked guilty all of a sudden.  “What?” she demanded.

“Well, let’s just hope my post from yesterday hasn’t found much traction…”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, instantly suspicious; she had remembered seeing the notification he tagged her in a post, but she hadn’t looked at it yet.  She clicked to his blog and found about what he was talking.

 

**_Mon_a_tee_ **

****

_If you ever had any doubt Bellamy Blake, aka James Potter, was one of the nicest people, have no fear.  My friend, whom most of you may know as @GriffinsCanDraw, has mild crowd anxiety, but we still went to SDCC because, well, it’s SDCC.  Anyway, when she had a panic attack and had to find a safe space and none other than Bellamy Blake stopped to check to make sure she way okay.  Seriously, no other person she ran past or who saw her panicking checked in with her.  But Bellamy Blake did.  What a stand-up guy!_

_#Bellamy Blake #James Potter #what a guy! #The Marauders #SDCC 2k17 #I hate tagging #I don’t know if I’ll ever get the hang of it #Shut up Jasper_

“I’ll take it down if you want,” he told her reaching for his laptop.  “I thought it was a nice little tribute.”

 Clarke looked at the notes.  It was already in the hundreds; people were out for blood for any references to something related to _The Marauders_ and SDCC.  “No point in it now,” she sighed.  “It’s been re-blogged so many times already.  Fuck you for being a name in the fanfiction portion of the fandom,” she scolded half-heartedly.

“It’s not my fault people want Starbucks and Wolfstar slash fiction!”

She smiled.  “True, true.  Who wouldn’t want to see those beautiful boys together?”  She fell back on the bed, sprawling.  Spotting her phone, she reached for it, thinking to check her own feed to reblog some things.  Sure she was at Comic-Con, but she couldn’t see _everything_.

The first thing she noticed was at the top of the bar, her phone was telling her she had basically an unheard of number of Ask notifications.  “Oh, no,” she muttered, unlocking her phone and opening the app. “Oh, no.”

“What’s ‘oh, no?’”

“People have put it together.  Your post and that interview video.  I have a lot of Asks, asking if that was me they were talking about.”

“I’m sorry,” Monty laid his head on her shoulder to commiserate.  “I really didn’t think it was going to _be_ something when I posted that.”

Clarke laid her head on his.  “It’s all good.  I wouldn’t have thought so either.”  With a heaving sigh, she sat up and began to compose a mass reply to the questions.

 

**_GriffinsCanDraw_ **

_[gif of Andrew from Buffy the Vampire Slayer with the caption “Oh, hello, there, gentle followers!”] (it was her usual greeting when she was making an announcement to her followers)_

_So, I’ve been getting a few Asks in regards to @Mon_a_tee’s post and its potential connection to this interview.  Well, for those of you who guess it?  You are correct, at least assuming Bellamy Blake didn’t stop and help some other girl having a panic attack at SDCC, that was me._

_And before you can ask, no we did not talk for hours on end and fall madly in love.  Haha, if only.  But for reals, the conversation went more like this:_

“You okay?”

And then me practically hyperventilating because my celebrity crush is interacting with me outside of me getting an autograph. “Yeah, just a mild panic attack.”

_Granted, he actually did remember me from when I had gotten the autograph (yay for a recognizable last name!).  But then he confirmed I was okay and went on to his interview.  It lasted **maybe** five minutes, probably not even that.  Nothing life changing.  I’m definitely just glad I didn’t go complete fangirl crazy over him, though I’m guessing the fact I couldn’t really breathe helped with that._

_But real props to Monty who was there the second after Bellamy and brought me back to our hotel room as soon as I was ready to move from my chosen safe haven.  So, thank you Monty, for being a wonderful friend._

 

“And there.  Hopefully that will quell the storm,” she said definitively, hitting ‘post.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please allow yourself a suspension of disbelief for this fic. I don’t generally involve myself too deeply into the fandom world and am not sure exactly how it all works and flows. Also, I still muddle my way through Tumblr/blog protocol and norms, so suspend your disbelief in that realm a little bit as well, please.   
> Basically, I keep mainly to a bystander and low-key fic writer; and as my Tumblr intro will tell you, I blog by the laws Bellamy’s original catchphrase, “whatever the hell I want;” so I’m kind of all over the place content-wise there.   
> Long story short: suspension of disbelief and please just let me go with my flow =) (If I’ve made some grievous error, though, do let me know)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, since I posted the first “chapter” of this story as stand alone. I feel obligated to keep it in similar form and post the rest of the story in (really) short chapters (at least compared to my usual chapter length)…I’m pretty sure this entire story (despite it becoming a multi-chapter fic) will be one of my shorter fics.  
> And, because I apparently don’t like going a full story without having some Bellamy POV, you’ll get that in this chapter. I mean, it’s only right that you get to know what’s going on in his head, too.

A few months later, the entire Bellamy Blake run-in at SDCC was a distant memory.  One that Clarke thought on fondly—because seriously, when you’re that close to your celebrity crush, you remember it vividly—but a memory nonetheless.  She was on Tumblr, because what else do you do with your spare time on a Saturday when she got a new Ask:

 

_You said you’re going to be at the FanArt Expo in Seattle in next month.  I’m so excited!!! I’m hoping I’ll be able to go!!! But did you hear that Bellamy Blake is going to be talking about Marauders there, too?  Do you think he’d remember you?_

 

She typed out her response:

 

_Hey Anony,_

_I’m super excited for the Expo, too!  It’s going to be the first big thing I do with my FanArt.  I’m glad I let @Mon_a_tee convince me to try to get a table.  I hope you can come, too!  If you do, you should be able to find me on a map (my booth is still under the name GriffinsCanDraw)._

_And no.  I hadn’t heard that yet.  I knew there was going to be some Marauders stuff, but I hadn’t heard Bellamy Blake yet.  Doubt he’ll remember me, though.  Remember a blonde named Griffin one day to the next is somewhat reasonable; remembering her half a year later, not so much._

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,_

_Clarke_

 

 

Bellamy was in his and his sister’s hotel room the day before the FanArt Expo in Seattle.  He had elected to represent _The Marauders_ with Miller, and he was actually looking forward to this smaller con.

“Please, Bell.  Please!” Octavia begged.  “It’ll be fun, I promise!”

“I’d be mobbed by fans, O.”

She rolled her eyes.  “That doesn’t sound conceited.”

“But it’s true.  And you know it.”

“Okay fine,” she relented.  “But if we cosplay, then you can go incognito!” 

Bellamy let out a hearty laugh.  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” she smiled.  “I love the fandom part of shows.  The fanart, Bellamy.  You’d be surprised.  And they only have the very best artists here.  Please!”

Bellamy had never been one to not give in to his sister.  Especially when it was something he could easily do.  He figured it had something to do with growing up watching over her and trying to give her everything on the small budget they had lived on.  Doing things, rather than buying things) had always been his way of showing her he loved her.  It still was his go-to method, even though he could afford all the elaborate gifts nowadays.  “Okay, fine,” he agreed with a long, suffering sigh.  “What are we cosplaying as?  I don’t think I have anything that would work. And it’d better cover my face, because like I said: fans.”

“Haven’t you heard all the stories like when Hugh Jackman cosplayed Wolverine and lost the contest because he didn’t look enough like Hugh Jackman.”

“So, you’re suggesting I cosplay James Potter?”

“Well, I mean, you could. But I was thinking more of doing Vikings or warriors from whatever show you watch.  Between the warpaint and your current state of bearded, no one will recognize you.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Bellamy grumbled, secretly excited to get to dress up in leathers and carry a weapon other than a wand, it would be peace-tied of course.

“Drop the grumpy tone, I know you’re excited,” Octavia called him out.

“How are we pulling this off anyway, it’s not like we have time to go to a store.”

Octavia shot him a Cheshire Cat grin as she pulled out an extra suitcase.  “I found some old Ren Faire stuff. I modified some of it, bought a couple other things, we’re good to go.”

He returned her grin with a deadpan look.  “You’ve been planning this for some time.”

She didn’t deign to give his accusation a response, instead, only opened the third suitcase to reveal two entire, rather elaborate, costumes.

 

…

 

Once out on the floor, Bellamy took his time before he finally realized that he _wasn’t_ being recognized.  Nobody was thinking to look for Bellamy Blake dressed as a war-painted Viking, and he was finally relaxing. 

Per usual, he let Octavia take the lead through the booths and stalls.  Though he made still made sure to give a wide berth to any tables that looked like they were Marauders-centric.

Octavia was engrossed in a set of prints relating to her current obsession of television show and was chatting with the artist, when he spotted a table recently vacated by patrons.  From the hanging works, it looked like there was a variety of fandoms represented and he was pretty sure he spotted a couple works that could be from a few of his own favorite shows.  He tapped his sister on the shoulder and gestured to the booth.  Once she nodded her acknowledgement, he headed over.

“Hi!” the owner of the table greeted enthusiastically.  It was only then that he noticed the owner of the booth.  It was a blonde who looked vaguely familiar.  She was wearing a T-shirt that had a cartoon griffin hunched over a drawing pad.  “I’m Clarke, the artist, alias GriffinsCanDraw, if you’re on social media.”

It clicked.  This was the same girl he had met at SDCC the one who his castmates had teased him about, the Griffin in the Slytherin shirt.  He immediately hid any reaction he could have given to the recognition; he had no reason to recognize her if he was just a faceless Viking in the crowd.  “Hi,” he returned.

She smiled happily.  “Well, I’ll just let you browse, the categories are pretty well labeled, but if you have any questions or anything, I’ll be right here.”

Bellamy returned the smile and began browsing her prints.  After a bit, he felt eyes boring into him and he looked up to see the owner of the booth, Clarke, looking at him intently with her head cocked to the side.

Having been caught, she ducked her head.  “Sorry,” she blushed.  She paused before huffing quietly to herself as if finally coming to a decision about something. “Has anyone ever told you, you look exactly like Bellamy Blake?”  He froze, which was apparently the wrong response.  Her mouth gaped open.  “Oh my god, you _are_ Bellamy Blake,” she exclaimed, though luckily not terribly loudly.

He cringed.  “Yeah,” he admitted, knowing there was no point in denying it.  “But I’m trying to enjoy the floor on the DL, so if you could just keep it to yourself?” he pleaded.

A smile pulling at her lips, she nodded enthusiastically.  “Yeah, of course. I could see the appeal of going incognito to enjoy the con.  Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks,” he returned sincerely. 

Bellamy moved his hands back to flipping through the prints, but he didn’t even get to the next one before he sighed.  “Okay, now that we started talking a little, it just seems weird not to talk while I look.”

Clarke laughed, happy and carefree, not at all like the nervous giggle he had grown accustomed to hearing from fans.  “Thank god,” she heaved.  “It so weird for me to just sit here and watch people look at my works.  I want to know what their looking at, but I don’t want to butt in where I’m not wanted.  It’s the awkward dance of two people being very aware of the other and saying nothing.”  Her lips pursed in thought.  “Though, I guess it is better than the sharp or grumpy tone I get when I try to interact with a customer who doesn’t want to be bothered.”

Bellamy let out his own laugh.  “I could see that.  You draw fanart for _Troy_?” he asked spying a label he hadn’t seen before.  “Like the movie with Brad Pitt?”

Clarke shook her head and then nodded.  “No.  Well, kind of?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“It’s a revamping of a work I did in college,” she moved so she was directly opposite of him at the table and began looking through works to find it.  “I took a Classical Epic class and for a project, I drew a map of _The Aeneid_ , all the places Aeneas and his people went on their journey, and what they did there.”  She pulled it out and handed it to him.  “I figured people would be more likely to look at that section if I gave them hopes of Brad Pitt rather than saying Classics or _The Aeneid_.  Devious, sure, but I’ve always been proud of that map.”

He marveled at the work in his hands.  He had always loved Classics; it was his not-so-guilty pleasure.  “This is amazing,” he said truthfully.  “Yup, okay.  I cannot in good conscience walk away from this table without this in my possession.  Prints are $10?” He asked, noticing the sign and reaching for his wallet.

Clarke laughed at his enthusiasm.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’m just happy that someone else appreciates it,” she replied, shaking her head.

“Clarke, you know who I am and what I do for a living; I can afford a $10 print.” He gave her an unrelenting look.

She returned the stare with equal force, not backing down.  Finally, she blew a puff of air out her nose.  “Fine.  Because I know you can afford it.”

He sent her a brilliant smile as he handed her a ten-dollar-bill. 

She took it, still grumbling quietly.  But when she looked up, after having put it away, she smiled at him happily.  “Thanks, Bellamy.  Hope you enjoy the rest of the con!”

“No, thank _you_!  This is getting framed and hung right by my bookcase.  Have a great day, Clarke!” he bade farewell, before seeking out Octavia to show-off his prized find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The print that Bellamy bought is inspired (cough cough identical) to the map I got at the Ren Faire this past summer. It is super awesome, and I definitely nerded out over it, and the map of “The Labors of Hercules” that I also got, with the cartographer/artist who was selling them. I love that Bellamy is a Classics nerd; I bond with him over that fact.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm kind of using this story to get back into the swing of writing (after a short hiatus following my completion of "All My Friends Are Heathens"). The chapters prior to this had already been written before I started publishing them this past week, and this one was not. Not 100% happy with my writing for various reasons, but I don't want to bias anyone (even though I might be simply by putting this here). *shrugs* Well, the only way to get better and happier with my writing is to keep at it. 
> 
> And onwards! Second to last chapter; like I said, this story is short and sweet =)

Clarke hadn’t been expecting the influx (albeit a small one) of followers after the Expo, but if she thought about it, she probably should have.  She got a lot of tags of people showing off their new artwork, and people complimenting her, and so forth.  So one little Ask saying, “I know you probably haven’t heard it enough lately, but you’re very talented and creative.  I’ve been looking through your art all day, and I can’t seem to get enough,” didn’t stand out so much to her.

She posted her public reply, thanking the anonymous complimenter and adding her own little self-promotion/plug for her professional blog and website:  Griffin Freelance Art & Graphic Design. FanArt may be where she got her fun doodle tendencies out, but it didn’t quite pay the bills.  She gained a few followers on that blog as well, but what she didn’t expect was to gain a follower with whom, two months later, she would be chatting with every day.

But as it stood, that’s what it was; she’d feel off if she didn’t get at least one message from Oliver.  Though, unless they were both terribly busy, it was always more than one message.  They had exchanged phone numbers for the ease of communication a few weeks ago and she was sending off one last text before movie night when she looked up to see Raven eyeing her from across the room.

“I’m putting it away now.  Movie night will remain sacred,” Clarke assured her.

“Who were you texting, anyway?” Jasper asked.  “All your friends are here,” he gestured to Raven, Monty, himself, and his girlfriend, Maya.

Clarke huffed.  “I have more friends than you four.  But if you must know, it was an internet friend; someone from Tumblr.”

Maya’s brow furrowed.  “You’re being safe, though, right?”

She rolled her eyes, but Raven answered before Clarke could say anything.  “I’m more curious about how she was all smiley when she was looking at her phone.  Clarke has a crush on her internet friend,” she sang teasingly.

Clarke tried to tamper down the blush that was rising on her cheeks.  She _may_ have a _slight_ crush on her internet friend; she had realized this when she didn’t have a “good morning” message from him a few days ago.  (He had had a late night at work, and his boss had told him to come in late the next day, as he had explained when she got a message around 11:00.)

“Oh my god, she does!” Jasper exclaimed perking up.  “What’s his name? Or her name?”

“More importantly, what their Tumblr name?” Monty asked, pulling out his phone.

“No, no, no.  I don’t need you all up in my business.  Let’s just watch the movie,” she protested.

“Clarke’s right, we should just start the movie,” Maya agreed.

Clarke settled back in her seat with a harrumph of satisfaction.  But no sooner had she done so, did Maya lunge forward and grab Clarke’s phone out of her loose grasp.  Clarke scoffed, jaw dropping in offense.  She shook her head ruefully, “Always the quiet, nice ones you’ve got to look out for,” she muttered as Maya passed Clarke’s phone to Monty with a wicked smile.

Clarke shook her head again and let it happen.  Maybe it was better to get it out now; minimize the teasing before she got too in over her head with Oliver.

Monty was typing away on her phone, while the others watched.  Clarke reached for the remote ignoring them in hopes that her lack of continued interest would dissuade them.  Right after she hit Play on the DVD menu, Monty started muttering to himself.

“Muttering’s either really good or really bad,” Jasper interpreted.

Raven smacked the back of his head for being unhelpful.

“It couldn’t be, could it?” Monty was saying.  “Hey, Clarke.  Your internet friend, it’s HerodotusismyHero?”

Leave it to Monty to figure it out in fifteen seconds.  “I usually call him, ‘Oliver,’ but yeah,” she admitted.

“As in Bellamy _Oliver_ Blake…” he said, leadingly.

“What are you talking about?” Clarke turned her attention from the screen to her friend.

“You remember how a year or so ago, Bellamy let it slip that he had a secret Tumblr?  And I spent over a month trying to find it?  Well, everyone did, but I think I was the only one with some good solid leads.  HerodotusismyHero was one of my top contenders…”

It all started clicking in Clarke’s head, the slight avoidance of talking about what he did for a job, him getting really into a discussion about mythologies and Classics (she recalled the print Bellamy Blake had bought from her at the Expo), them being in the same timezone ( _Marauders_ was filmed just a few hours away), and several other things.  “Oh my god,” the words slipped out of her mouth.

 

 ... 

 

It had been bugging her for the past few days, ever since movie night.  All signs were pointing to Oliver being Bellamy Blake.  But that didn’t make sense, right?  Bellamy Blake, famous Hollywood actor, wouldn’t be chatting with _her_ on a daily basis.  Sure, he and his castmates would always say he was a big dork at heart—really everyone in the fandom knew it from the behind-the-scenes and interviews and such.  But it still was too real for Clarke.

That wasn’t something she should confront him about either, right?  It’d be too weird.  Say he isn’t, and then there’s the speculation that she was only talking to him because she thought he was famous.  Say he is, and then what if he stops talking to her because he wanted a friend who didn’t know/like him for his fame.  She’d screw it all up.  To her it didn’t really matter one way or another.  She liked chatting with Oliver (Bellamy???) and she didn’t want to stop.  That was the main reason she kept putting off that simply question in their messages.

She lasted about ten days before it ate at her so much that she _needed_ an answer, no matter what that answer would be.

 

_So…my friend has this theory…  
5:23 pm_

_…?  
5:23 pm_

_He thinks you’re Bellamy Blake…  
5:25 pm_

 

Clarke slammed her phone, screen down on the couch beside her after she sent send.  She breathed deeply, trying to regain her calm.  And waited, and waited.  God, why was it taking so long?  “Calm down,” she told herself.  “You literally just sent it.   He’s not the best at responding a second later at the best of times.”

Clarke got up and opened her fridge to find food.  Closing it, she looked in the freezer.  Then the cupboard.  And back to the fridge.  Choosing nothing, she returned to the couch and peeked at her phone.  Still no response.  She tapped out a quick rhythm on the armrest.  When her phone dinged, she practically threw it across the room in her anticipation.

 

 _…why does he think that?_  
I assume we’re talking Monty, here.  
5:31 pm

 

Clarke groaned in frustration.

 

_You’re avoiding the question.  
5:32 pm_

_Technically you didn’t ask a question._  
You told me about a theory Monty has.  
5:32 pm

_Fine._  
Are you Bellamy Blake?  
5:33 pm

_Not that I care one way or another._  
It really doesn’t matter.  
5:33 pm

_He just brought it up last movie night._  
And it’s been eating away at me.  
5:33 pm

_Clarke  
5:34 pm_

_But like I said.  I don’t care if you are or if you aren’t._  
I still want to chat like we usually do.  
5:34 pm

_Clarke  
5:34 pm_

_Assuming you’re still up for it.  
5:34 pm_

_I would understand if you’re not.  
5:34 pm_

_Clarke you’re rambling.  And_  
Bombarding me with messages.  
5:34 pm

_Sorry.  I’m sorry.  I’m just nervous all of a sudden.  
5:35 pm_

_Not because you’re potentially a famous person.  
5:35 pm_

_But because I don’t want my friend to be mad or upset with me.  
5:35 pm_

_Monty's right._  
I’m Bellamy Blake.  
5:35 pm

_That’s really all I don’t want, right now.  I’m sorry.  I just needed to know.  
5:36 pm_

_Oh shit.  You are?  
5:36 pm_

_[snapchat image with time stamp:  Bellamy smiling, laughter in his eyes.]_  
Enough proof for you?  
5:38 pm

_[image of Clarke blushing and hiding half her face behind a pillow]_  
Yeah.  
5:39 pm

 

...

 

Oddly, things didn’t really change after than conversation.  They still chatted every day.  The only real difference is that he would be more open about what exactly he was doing that day.  And she would call him Bellamy instead of Oliver.  They also started exchanging the occasional picture; she definitely wasn’t complaining about any of it.

After they had been texting for another month, they graduated to phone calls, even though they both admitted to not really like talking on the phone.  Yet, it was different with each other.  They would talk about their days, or nothing.  And she would smile the entire time.  Raven’s teasing had only escalated; there was quite a bit of pushing, too.

It was just another normal night in her apartment when she heard her phone start to ring.  Her face lit up when she saw his picture on the caller ID.  “Hey, Bell,” she greeted.  “I’m making cookies for Monty’s Science Club bake sale, so I’m going to put you on speaker.”

“Wait, can I get a picture of this?  My mental image has you covered in flour and your kitchen a mess.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.  And pulled up the camera app.  Taking a quick selfie with her kitchen clearly in the background she sent it.

“How did I know I was right?” Bellamy’s chuckling voice came through the speaker as she propped the phone near her work station.

“You’ve never heard a single story about my cleanliness habits when I’m cooking, baking, painting, drawing, or anything,” she deadpanned.

“Cleanliness,” he teased.  “Or lack thereof.”

“Hardy-har-har.  But hey, messiness is part of the process. The end result is always good.  Well, almost always.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.  Especially, if I’m basing your messiness when you do art to your end result.”

Clarke blushed slightly.  No matter how many times she heard it; compliments on her art always made her smile; doubly so when it came from Bellamy.

There was a small pause.  “So…” Bellamy began, a strange lilt in his voice.  “Miller and Octavia have been hounding me about something lately.”

“What’s that?” Clarke asked, adding the flour mixture into the bowl.

“So, it’s not that far between Vancouver and Everett…”

“Nope.  I think it’s about one-and-a-half to two hours, depending on traffic.” Clarke tried not to get her hopes infused in her answer.

“And, apparently I talk about you _a lot_.”

“Do you, now?” she teased.

“Um, yeah,” if she could see him, she would have seen a hint of pink to his cheeks.  “So, I was wondering if you wanted me to come visit you.  Or the other way around.  Or meet somewhere in the middle. Or—”

“Bellamy, are you asking me out?”

“Yeah.  So, do you want to?” She could practically feel the tense hope lingering in his voice.

“Yes.  Definitely yes.” Clarke couldn’t contain her smile even if she wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why, but I love making Bellamy’s initials be BOB. It tickles my funny bone in its nod to our lovely Bob Morley.
> 
> Also, I was originally planning on just going straight into a SDCC 2018 chapter, but I thought people might want to read their date. Because Bellarke actualizing Bellarke. So, that’s what you have to look forward to in the next chapter. It'll still have a nod to the next con at the very end, though; don't worry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the final chapter…enjoy!

“This is stupid.  I shouldn’t be this anxious; we’ve been talking for months,” Clarke admonished herself as she stood in front of her closet, rethinking her date outfit for the seventh time.  She closed her closet with finality.  “Nope.  No more changing. He should be here in ten or fifteen minutes.”

She walked to her window and peered out of it.  She was about to turn to go to the kitchen when she noticed a car sitting in the nearest guest park to her building.  She looked closer and shook her head.  Taking a picture with her phone, she composed a message.

 

 _[Image of Bellamy in car on his phone]_  
Are you just going to awkwardly sit in your car until 4:00?  
3:41 pm

 

Clarke watched as Bellamy’s head jerked up and began scanning the window of her building.  She waved before grabbing her keys and walking to meet him at the door.

They arrived at the door at the same time, Bellamy with a bashful smile, Clarke on the verge of laughter. “Hi,” he greeted.

“Hi,” she returned, stepping back so he could enter the building.  “So _were_ you just going to sit there until 4:00?  How long were you there anyway?”

He shook his head at her teasing.  “I just got here a few minutes ago.  And O takes forever to get ready, so I thought you might want the extra twenty minutes.”

“Nope.  Ready as I’m going to be.  I just need to grab my purse.  You can come up and see the apartment, if you want.”

“Did you clean it in anticipation of me seeing it?” he teased, following her up the stairs.

She shot a quick, playful glare over her shoulder at him.  He knew her too well.  “This is it,” she announced opening the door and moving to grab her purse from the coffee table.  “You can either get a quick peek now or we’ll be coming back in a bit.”

With a quiet meow, Margot leapt from her sunspot on cat-tree to check out the new visitor.  “You’re not allergic, right?” Clarke asked in a minor panic.  “I hadn’t factored that into the plans for today.”

Bellamy stoop to coo over the cat, petting her small head as she brushed it against his leg.  “Not allergic, just never owned a pet myself.”  Clarke deflated in relief.  “What are the plans for today anyway?  You never told me,” he continued.

 “I figured we could go to the supermarket and pick up some ingredients for dinner and maybe drop by a Red Box or else just Netflix.  That way we don’t have to worry about talking too loud at a movie; we can pause and such.  And making dinner together sounds fun.”  She bit her lip, suddenly nervous about her plans.  “I just thought it’d be nice, something small and quiet here?  Not that I’m trying to hide you in my apartment or anything. But you have mentioned fans getting in the way of some of your outings.  Not that I think you’d be mobbed by fans in the middle of Mount Vernon.  But…”

It was Bellamy’s turn to be on the verge of laughter, his shoulders shaking slightly with holding it in.  “Clarke,” he said, standing to gain better eye contact.  “Making dinner and watching a movie sounds perfect.”  A chuckle escaped him, recalling when she had called him out on being a famous actor.  “You sure do like to ramble when you’re nervous.”

“Shut up,” Clarke pouted, pushing him out the door while simultaneously blocking the cat from following.  “We’ll be back soon, Margot.”

 

...

 

Clarke was finishing her favorite brownie recipe when her concentration was interrupted by a boisterous laugh.  She turned around, affronted.

“I thought your pictures were an exaggeration; like you played it up or something.  But you really are a mess in the kitchen,” Bellamy teased.

“You want to say that again?” Clarke retorted, gathering some flour from the countertop and threatening to flick it at him.

His hands lifted in surrender, but the grin on his face freely showed his mirth.  “I’m good.  I think only one of us need to be covered in flour tonight.”

Clarke looked down at her cute black shirt. “Darn it!” she exclaimed, brushing it with her hand…and adding even more flour to the mess.  She sighed, “I’m going to go change or clean up or something.  Do you want to put that batter in the brownie pan?  It’s all ready to go in the oven after dinner.”

Bellamy nodded his assent as Clarke went to go find a second outfit for the night.  “The flour handprints on your butt are my favorite,” he called right before she closed her bedroom door.

“Hey, “Clarke shouted. Then a thought came to her, “You were checking out my butt,” she accused through the door.

There was a short pause.  “Am I in trouble if I say, ‘Yes?’”

“No, but you’ll be teased mercilessly.”

“At least I’m not the one with handprints on my butt.”

She let out a joyful laugh and threw on a different pair of leggings and a sweater to go over it.  There were almost done with the cooking portion of the evening, so she didn’t think she’d get too messy again.  Glancing in the mirror and wiping a stray glob of batter off her cheek, she returned to the kitchen where Bellamy was plating up dinner.

She snuck up behind him and grabbed one of the plates.  “To the couch?”

He jumped slightly, but recovered quickly.  “Have a preference of our picks?” he asked, nodding toward the collection of DVDs on the coffee table.  There had been a bin of two-dollar DVDs at the supermarket.  They were just in paper cases labeled only with the title, a one sentence summary, and the director and main cast.  Bellamy and Clarke had chosen three, with the rule that they were not allowed to use the internet to figure out a real plot or review for the movies and they were pretty excited to see what they got.

“Nope.”  Clarke settled herself in her usual spot, Margot jumping onto the armrest to check out what Clarke was eating.  “Not for you,” she muttered to the cat as Bellamy took the other seat on the couch.

“Let’s read the plots one more time and see if any stand out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she smiled. 

 

...

 

A quiet buzz-buzz broke Clarke out of her light sleep.  Blinking her eyes open, she realized it was dark outside and the TV was looping through the DVD menu.

“Sorry, sorry,” a deep voice sounded from the other end of the couch.  Bellamy jerked his hand off of where it had been laying on her calf.

Clarke giggled.  “I literally dug my feet under your leg seeking warmth and you’re sorry about a hand?” she teased, sitting up.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Bellamy smiled happily.

There was another buzzing.  “Your phone or mine?” Clarke asked, searching around for hers.

“Mine,” he held up the device and unlocked the screen.  “Holy shit, it’s one in the morning.”

“What?” Clarke was fully awake now.  She snatched up her own phone, not believing him. 

Bellamy plunked away at his phone to find the reason for the repeated buzzing.  “It’s my sister.”  He chuckled.  “And I quote, ‘Where are you?  I specifically let myself into your apartment so I could interrogate you when you got home.  And you’re still not here!’”

Clarke laughed as she looked up from her own phone which had its share of notifications.  “I take that and raise you a message from Raven. ‘Did you guys hit it off?  Are you going to see him again?  Have you convinced him to join us for trivia next week?  We need to fill our void of history knowledge!’”

Bellamy laughed before gaining a sly smile.  “Is that your way of asking if I’d like to see you again?”

“Technically it was Raven asking.  But yeah…?” she trailed off hopefully.

His smile brightened.  “I would really like that.  I would also really like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”

“ _I_ would really like _that_ ,” she returned, leaning closer.

His lips descended on her with a soft press, both of them smiling into it.  She pulled back a little.  “You know I’m not letting you drive all the way home at this hour.”  She pressed another kiss against his lips, cutting off his protests before he could say them.  “The couch pulls out,” she told him.  “It’s surprisingly comfortable.”

He chuckled against her lips.  “There’s no chance I would win this argument, is there?”

“Not a one,” she pressed a final chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back all the way.  “I think I have a pair of sweatpants I stole from Wells if you’d rather sleep in that than jeans.”

“I usually just sleep in boxers.”

Clarke willed herself not to blush, and she wasn’t entirely sure she succeeded.  “That works, too.”

She stood up and got some sheets and blankets from the closet and helped him make up the bed.

“So, cooking pancakes tomorrow?”

“Count on it.”

“Good night, Clarke.”

“Night, Bellamy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke stood in the corner of the room behind the monitors as the cast of _The Marauders_ filmed an interview for SDCC 2018.

“Didn’t we end up with basically the same question last year?” Harper was asking, looking around at her co-stars for confirmation.  “I swear.  And we’re basically sitting in the same seats, too.”

“Technically, last year they asked you what it was like working with a basically all male cast.  This year, they’re just asking you about your off-screen relationships with us,” Miller corrected.

Harper rolled her eyes.  “Same difference.  Anyway,” she smiled at the interviewer.  “You’re going to get a very similar answer.  They’re all basically my brothers, annoying, teasing, and pains in my butt.”

“You did have some recurring female guest-stars this year though,” the interviewer pointed out.  “Did you combine your girl power to overthrow the boys sometimes?”

“On occasion.  But if we’re talking off-screen hanging out, Clarke’s there more often than not nowadays.  Between the two of us, we definitely keep these boys in line.”

Murphy started laughing.  “This really is like last year.  Though, at least we have a name for the girl that made Bellamy late for our meet time this year.”

“Shut up, we were not late,” Bellamy retorted.

“He still thinks she’s cute, too” Miller added with a smirk.

“You shut up, too.  But yes, I do still think she’s cute,” Bellamy made eye contact with her from across the room.

Clarke shook her head, laughing silently.  It was her second time at SDCC; and as much fun as she had last year, this year was definitely better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all she wrote =)   
> Sorry if it seemed a little jumpy, but I wanted to keep it close to the same word count as the previous chapters.  
> The inspiration for Margot (Clarke’s cat) was simply because my cat decided she needed extra attention today while I was writing and wouldn’t leave me be.  
> The whole two-dollar movie bin with very scant and poor labeling is something that actually occurred to my roommate and me in college our sophomore year. We had the same rule in place (no looking up any more info) and I still remember lying in bed after we finished The Black Dahlia and my roommate saying, “Do you understand what we just watched?” and me reply, “Nope. I’m still confused.” Neither of us had heard of the Black Dahlia murder before this movie, but we liked some of the actors/actresses, and we liked crime and drama, so we thought we’d enjoy it. Alas, we were only left confused and wanting answers.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, Kudos and comments are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day.
> 
> Also, I finally broke down and got a [Tumblr](https://dracoterrae9099.tumblr.com/). I really don't know what I'm doing (technologically challenged and socially awkward over here; please don't judge me). But feel free to come chat at me about Bellarke or my stories or basically anything.


End file.
